Books And Lights Novels & Stories

Author’s POV The room was dimly lit, not by necessity, but by design. Heavy curtains draped over the tall windows, shutting out the city lights that flickered beyond the glass, leaving only the soft amber glow of recessed lighting to shape the space. Shadows clung to the corners, stretching and settling like silent witnesses to everything that unfolded within those walls.

And this is how the last story about Light and Darkness that I wanted to present to you ends. It was certainly an extraordinary journey, showing different stories, but at the same time touching the same topic - can two such opposing poles as Light and Darkness connect at some point? I'll leave it to your own choice, but one thing is for sure - as Miyuki said in Book 4, wanting to stop the battle between vampires and wizards - Light and Darkness certainly couldn't exist without each other. If there was only Light but no Darkness, what would be its meaning? Likewise, if there was only Darkness in the world, wouldn't its existence be pointless without trying to "devour" the Light?

Each chandelier held within it a dancing flame, casting flickering shadows upon the shelves of books that stretched as far as the eye could see. The shelves were made of intricately carved marble, adorned with scrolls and books, and delicate filigree. Each book was a work of art, bound in fine leather and decorated with intricate, gilded designs. Amira paused in front of one of the large mahogany tables. “Put them here,” she ordered the servants, who proceeded to place the ledgers on the table whilst she looked at the library in awe.

We rode through the night. The library was dark when we returned. The candles had burned out, and the only light came from the moon through the high windows. Lysander lit them with a flick of his wrist, his movements quick, almost frantic. He pulled books from the shelves—old books, books we had not touched in weeks—and spread them across the table.

Others were filled with books bound in white leather, adorned with intricate gold filigree. The doppelganger seemed to sense my curiosity. "The books are arranged according to their subject matter," it explained. "The black books contain knowledge of the dark arts, while the white books contain knowledge of the light arts." I nodded, my mind racing with questions. What were the dark arts? And what were the light arts? As we reached the far end of the library, the doppelganger stopped in front of a large, ornate door. The door was adorned with intricate carvings of symbols and patterns that seemed to dance across its surface.

Logical. “Step two: electric blackout blinds.” “Fancy.” “You press a button,” he says dramatically, miming a remote. “Boom. Darkness. No wrestling with curtains every morning like some Victorian ghost.” He points near the door. “Light switch there.” Then toward the bed. “And another switch here.” He suddenly stops mid-sentence. His eyes widen. “Oh my God.” “What?” “My bookshelves.” I turn. Across the room, the shelves he built months ago glow softly in the lamp light.

I couldn't survive another confrontation tonight. The library felt different in the dead of night. The recessed lights cast a pale glow over the shelves, leaving the narrow aisles wrapped in long shadows. Tablets rested silently in their charging docks, their dark screens reflecting the light whenever I passed. The air was cool and still, carrying the familiar scent of old paper, dried herbs, and the faint metallic trace of electronics. I moved deeper into the stacks, my footsteps echoing softly across the polished stone floor. With every step, my tote bag seemed to grow a little heavier against my side.

Darren was still going at it, trying to win an argument that I had checked out of a long time ago. I turned him out, turned on my heel, and headed for the door. However, before I stepped out, I threw a glance over my shoulder and replied calmly, "Just so you know, I've got the Bond Dissolution Ceremony at the Moon Goddess Temple set for three days from now. We'll go our separate ways after that, so don't be late." The moment I was gone, Darren's composure crumbled into chaos. He racked his brain but came up empty.

I pushe⁠d them ope⁠n‌ a⁠n⁠d stopped co‍ld. A library. T⁠all⁠ shelves packed with t​housands of books, o‍ld leath‌er-bound‌ volumes, modern har​dcovers, rar⁠e first editions. S⁠unlight peeps in through t​he‌ w‍indow‍s onto co​mf‍ortable reading chairs. A massive oak desk sat in o⁠ne corne‍r, c‌ov⁠ered in neatly stacked pa​pers.​

The arrangement feels effortless, like it was designed for comfort, not order, encouraging you to stay as long as you like. Soft, golden light spills from a couple of hanging lamps, casting warm shadows that make the room feel smaller in the best way possible. To my left, an aisle stretches between two tall shelves, the books stacked so high I’ll need a ladder to reach the top. I glimpse more shelves tucked beyond it, disappearing into a quiet corner of the annex, but I’m not ready to wander back there yet.